


Nippy

by Brillador



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arendelle, Banter, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Smut, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Dark Castle, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Enchanted Forest, Cold Weather, Cunnilingus, F/M, Groping, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Sex In A Cave, Sexual Tension, Sexy Outfit, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Smut, well actually there is plot but it's all setup for porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:18:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brillador/pseuds/Brillador
Summary: Belle isn’t able to go to Arendelle before Rumplestiltskin collects her for their deal. When Rumple mentions he’s making a trip to the kingdom, Belle begs him to bring her along so she can retrieve her memories of her mother’s death. They each complete their endeavors, but Rumple finds himself distracted by Belle’s wardrobe of choice.





	

When he reluctantly agreed to let Belle come with him, the most Rumplestiltskin imagined fretting about was her either getting underfoot or making an escape attempt. In the last few months, she’d proven herself more or less trustworthy. Well, maybe not with keeping the castle free of dust or his collections untouched by her curious hands. Ever since their brush with Maleficent and her ilk, Belle had minded caution when going outside. She had settled into her life in the Dark Castle enough that Rumplestiltskin, for reasons he preferred not to explore too deeply, yielded to her request to travel with him to Arendelle. She’d been forthright in her purpose: the rock trolls had the power to retrieve memories. She’d learned about them around the time Maurice wrote to the Dark One for help, so she didn’t have an opportunity to go on her little quest before leaving home for the last time.

“What exactly are you expecting to learn?” Rumple asked irreverently. “The last thing you remember is an ogre standing over you and your mother. Then you woke up and found out she died. Seems pretty clear what happened.”

Belle’s expression hardened as it never had before, not even when he teased and scolded her. He’d hit a nerve he hadn’t really meant to aim for. Despite the regret pooling in his chest, he kept up his wry facade.

“If that’s your attitude,” she said through her frown, “then I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to lose someone and not know what happened to them.”

With care, the Dark One’s face went from snide to blank. “Perhaps not,” he muttered.

Her fierce mood melted into painful longing. “I know it doesn’t sound rational—you’re probably right that she died by the ogre’s hand. But why am I still alive? Did she save me? If my mother died because she was protecting me, I need to know for sure.”

Guilt swam in her eyes. The emotion did not become his maid. If taking her along banished it from her face and heart, well, it wouldn’t be _very_ inconvenient.

Oh, how short-sighted of him. Not in regards to Belle’s conduct. She was nothing if not doggedly focused on her personal endeavor, even when she asked questions about why he was going to Arendelle. He kept the details vague, per usual, giving only morsels to keep her quiet for parts of the boat ride across the sea. She learned that he was retrieving something taken from him and had reason to believe it was at Arendelle Castle, home of Queen Elsa and Princess Anna. Belle made one attempt to find out why a royal would take anything from the Dark One. He reminded her that her energy was best spent finding the rock trolls. She scowled from her thwarted prodding but took up the suggested topic and even consulted him on where to look.

“You know,” he said during the last day of the week-long voyage, when the thin line of land was already in sight, “you could’ve asked _me_ to cook up a potion for you.”

“I’m already indebted to you,” Belle noted. “One deal with the Dark One is the most anyone should handle, if living with you has taught me anything.”

He snickered. “Smart girl.”

Belle smiled, and he feared she’d read more sincerity in those words than he’d meant. Perhaps he _was_ sincere. A rush of heat rippled through his chest and neck. With a hand-flick, he directed attention to the sunset lighting up the sea, an orgy of rich colors and radiance they never could witness in the mountains. Belle started talking about how she’d visited the seaside only a few times a year with her parents. Their rarity made those excursions all the more special and romantic. Rumple listened, drifting along her words and smiles as the ship did on the swells beneath them.

That’s not where the real trouble began. The next morning, his scheming brain was running like a new clock. He’d find a way to make that Anna lass pay for her tricks. It burned him to feel her dagger-given command still engrained in his bones, his blood. He couldn’t harm her or her sister Elsa directly. But there were other people she cared about. It wouldn’t take much to work around the orders.

He was sharp, clear-headed, ready to work his wicked methods, only to be partly derailed by the sight of his maid coming to the top deck with her satchel of packed belongings.

Yesterday she’d worn her blue dress with the neckline that showed just a hint of cleavage. He liked that dress, but it never had the effect that this new outfit did. It was snowy white and, from the waist up, very modest. The collar met at the base of her neck so it could support a hood. The short cape covered her torso even more.

Rumple’s gaze wasn’t drawn to her chest. It honed in on her legs. The skirt barely reached her knees, which wouldn’t have shocked him that much on its own. Rather, something about the handkerchief hemline fascinated him; the points were like the teeth of a great beast. They didn’t meet the tops of her knee socks. _Knee socks._ And _nothing else_ to cover her legs in the chilly Arendelle climate.

“Is something wrong?” Belle asked.

Rumplestiltskin straightened to attention. “Uh . . . just wondering what took you so long.”

She gave one of her questioning squints and head tilts. When she dismissed his remark, he dared to take a breath.

“Sorry we can’t _all_ use magic to get dressed,” she said. “Are you sure you’re prepared to go?”

The way she eyed his outfit made him all the warier _not_ to do the same to her. With a miffed air, he brushed the front of his scaly leather vest. He wasn’t wearing a coat. “Certainly I am. Afraid I’ll catch cold?”

That should’ve been his thought regarding her. Her legs looked so pink against the white dress and socks.

“Somehow I think you, the Dark One, would catch a cold just to rush us home to have me tend to you.”

Rumple puckered his nose like an annoyed rabbit. Her playful tone did bothersome things to his heart and stomach. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you’re nervous about letting me out of your sight.” Belle came closer, enough that she could speak lower. For privacy’s sake, surely, yet he wondered if she felt the same tingles he did. Maybe it was from feeling her breath on his face. He was barely breathing.

“But I made a promise, Rumple. I won’t jeopardize my family’s safety. So long as our deal holds, I will always keep my end of it.”

Ah. Of course. That’s all it was—a noble sacrifice to save her town. All the reason she needed to stay with the monster. How good of her to remind him.

“As you should,” he said, regaining a blend of flippancy and menace. “Well, then, be off, dearie. Go find those rock nuggets and give them my best wishes.” He raised a hand to send himself off with magic.

“Wait! We need to find lodgings, don’t we? After a week of travel, we might as well spend a night resting somewhere other than a boat.”

“If you insist, I’ll leave that to you to arrange.”

“But how will you know where to find me?”

“Saying my name three times does the trick.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened. Then her brows dipped down. “You could’ve mentioned it before.”

“It’s not you who usually has to come looking for me. Now if the reverse worked, that’d be much more useful!”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you might have a point. It would’ve helped to know that when those witches captured me, though.”

“Yes, we don’t need a repeat performance of that,” Rumple grumbled.

A clever smile slipped across Belle’s face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried for my safety.”

“I’m worried I’ll need to find a new maid if the one I have doesn’t watch herself.”

Belle nodded, the gesture wholly sarcastic. Gods, the girl was infuriating. Especially in those knee socks. “Then I’ll see you later,” she said. “Well, as long as clumsy me doesn’t go walking off a cliff or gets eaten by a reindeer.”

“Be sure you don’t,” Rumple sniped back. “I don’t need a side-quest to rescue you disrupting my errand.”

“Maybe a handsome iceman will come save me instead,” she finished. She didn’t even bother hiding her grin as she strutted past him. “Best of luck, Rumple.”

Grimacing like a scolded child, Rumple glared at the back of Belle’s head, then at the back of her knees as they brushed the dress’s toothy hem. Dammit, he was going to be thinking of them all day.

* * *

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but thankfully the memory of Belle’s rosy, tender knees peering between skirt and sock faded enough that he could accomplish his task, which turned out surprisingly simple. Ingrid, the Snow Queen and aunt to the Arendelle royals, had beaten him to recovering the box covered in stars. She’d also done him the favor of freezing the mouthy princess along with the rest of the castle. Personal vengeance would’ve been better, but this sufficed. It was a simple matter of a deal with Ingrid—the urn containing her niece Elsa in exchange for the hat.

All had gone swimmingly until he saw, upon exiting the castle, that the entire kingdom was now one immense ice sculpture. Huh. So much for lodgings. Then a thought crossed his mind: when did Ingrid cast the frozen spell? Before or after their arrival? Rumple’s magic was strong enough to protect him from a general enchantment of that nature, but was Belle safe? Her objective took her into the mountains. Maybe the trolls’ magic would protect her, too. That barely soothed him.

Just as he settled on poofing to the mountains to find her, her voice drifted through the ether: _Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestilts—_

He followed it as though he was chasing the wind. In a flash, he stood on a snowy slope. There was Belle, dressed the same as before, hands cupped against her chest. When she saw him, her expression glowed with an intensity that made his lungs lurch.

“Rumple! You’re okay!” She ran up and threw her arms around his neck. Rumple lost air again. He couldn’t make himself speak until she pulled back while still touching his arms.

“As are you,” he said. He didn’t mind giving away his relief. “I worried you might have, well—”

“You mean the freezing curse? I know. Grand Pabbie told me what happened. He could feel it from here. His magic is incredible—sorry, he said a spell was being cast. He protected me. And he gave me this!” From her satchel, Belle pulled out a purple rock. Rumple could feel magic pulsing from it.

“So you got it.” He felt oddly glad about that. Well, he hadn’t wanted Belle to fail. Neither had he really invested in her success. Yet he wanted to smile for her. A ghostly one glanced over his coarse lips.

It was enough to make Belle beam some more. Then she caught sight of the urn in his hands. “Is that what you came for?”

Rumple remembered that he was holding the urn at all. He held it up a little higher. “Not exactly. More of a consolation prize.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

With a surprised frown, he lowered the urn. “I didn’t think you cared about that. You don’t know what I was trying to recover.”

Belle’s eyes were so soft with kindness that his stomach plummeted. “No, but you said you lost something. So did I. I got mine back.” She hefted the small stone. “But you didn’t. Are you disappointed?”

Rumple’s gaze flitted to the stone. He’d never pretend that getting the Sorcerer’s Hat wasn’t very important to him. But upon looking at the rock, the embodiment of Belle’s last memories of her mother, some inner voice that normally remained mute whispered chiding words. What lengths wouldn’t he have gone to do the same for the memory of a loved one? How much more dearly would it have cost him to fail?

His tone and gesturing hand oozed impish confidence. “No need to fret. I’m a patient man. Who knows? I may get my true prize, after all.”

“Well, I admire your optimism.” Belle surprised him once more by taking his free hand. “It looks like our lodging options got a lot scarcer. But I saw a cave close to here. How about we rest there, then take the first ship in the morning?”

At this great a distance from home, Rumple entertained no hopes of simply poofing them away. He didn’t know Arendelle or the surrounding lands well enough to find an unfrozen lodge or inn. So he agreed. Granted, when he saw it half an hour later, the dirt-floor cave in the middle of the snowy wilderness did not look comfortable.

As soon as she set down her satchel inside the cave, Belle surveyed the scenery outside the entrance.  “There are some trees over that way.” She pointed to a ridge that loomed a couple miles away. On foot they’d need an hour to reach it. “Could you take us there to get firewood?”

Rumple complied. It made simple sense to go with her. For all he knew, she might get pummeled by some snow falling off a tree. His presence also proved useful in thawing the twigs and branches Belle found. He considered collecting several at a time with a levitation spell. Instead he was sidetracked watching Belle crouch and bend over. Good to see her legs weren’t turning blue yet.

“Hey—” Belle straightened with a few more branches in hand. Rumple started. She pointed past him. “Could you grab those twigs over there? I think we’ll have enough.”

He did so only to cover his ogling. He didn’t consider how, in his haste, he bent down to snatch the branches while facing directly away from Belle. When he turned around, arms full, he noticed her slightly glazed stare.

He frowned. “Something wrong?”

Belle blinked quickly. “Oh! No, no!” She shook her head and dragged in air like she’d had the wind knocked from her. “Uh, it’s colder than I realized! Let’s get back.”

No need to tell him twice. In the cave, they both unloaded the sticks. Some they placed in a pile for a fire, some they saved for later. Rumple did the honors of igniting a fireball in his hand and tossing it onto the kindling. Orange light flushed across the walls, a pleasant change from the forbidding darkness that now swallowed the landscape outside.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Belle said, a preamble that grabbed Rumplestiltskin’s attention straight away. Leather squeaked as he sharply turned to see her hand disappear into her bag. She spent a few minutes rummaging through what couldn’t have been a very deep satchel, only to prove him wrong by extracting two quilts and two pillows. She met Rumple’s agog response with a sheepish grin. “I found the bag in one of your storage rooms. Well, you had it in there with so many other things you probably don’t even remember collecting. I thought it would be useful in case accommodations were lacking.”

“I remember everything I collect,” Rumple snapped, just as he was close to snapping the enchanted bag from her hands.

“Really? Where did this come from?” Belle hoisted it toward him, practically an invitation to take it.

So he did, to inspect it for other hidden treasures she’d brought along. A nightgown, perhaps? A change of clothes for tomorrow? When his hand felt a fold of silk, a pleased and unwholesome smile slithered into sight. “From a less cunning wizard. And where, pray tell, did you get this?”

His hand whipped out the nightgown. It shimmered like moonlight on water. Triumph was subsumed by curiosity about how well the sleeveless garment would look on the now flustered maiden before him.

“I bought it,” she managed to say before getting to her feet. The stance she took reminded Rumple of an anxious kitten trying to take back a stolen toy. The sight positively tickled him.

“Ohhh, did you? I don’t recall paying you a wage, dearie.”

Belle jumped for the gown. “You give me money whenever you send me to market!”

It would’ve been easy to pop from one spot to another, but like a bullfighter, he thrilled at snapping the fabric out of reach as she lunged. “Ah, money that could have gone to the larder. Naughty girl. You thought I wouldn’t notice!”

“You _didn’t_ notice, you fiend!”

When Belle twisted around and made another lunge, she grunted. Rumple giggled and failed to observe that he was heading for a spot where the cave wall curved.

“A fiend? I suppose I am.” He proved it by throwing the gown up, then casting a spell to keep the nightie floating while Belle tried yet again to jump for it. Her fingertips barely brushed it.

“Stop it!” she shouted.

“You almost got it!” he sang. It was too much fun. He stepped back to admire her exertions and her skirt as it flapped up and down with every jump. A flash of guilt glanced off him. Whether it was that moment of conscience or his otherwise thorough enjoyment of Belle’s efforts that blinded him to danger, he would never be sure. In the end, it was probably thanks to how closely they were positioned, something he didn’t think a problem even as he sensed the bending wall behind him that cut off any side-stepping. Magic could have rescued him, but the thought never made it to the logic centers of his brain.

Half a second after landing from another failed jumped, Belle jumped again, but not for the nightgown.

Rumple’s back hit the wall. Pain skittered over his skin through the leather vest. He bent his head forward enough to spare the back of his skull from impact. The ache in his shoulder blades couldn’t compare to the warmth suddenly enveloping his torso. A flushed, panting, frazzled, piqued Belle had pinned him to the wall. Her eyes, glowering and dazzling, were swiftly covered by white silk.

It felt like a crazed drummer was playing inside his chest. At the same time, his mind spun with shock, excitement and hilarity. He gave a throaty laugh.

Belle swiped the nightie off her head. She pinched her lips together in a valiant attempt to stay angry. She held out for an admirable ten seconds as Rumple kept giggling. When a smile cracked through her facade, Rumple became very aware of her arm around him, her chest against his, her fingers digging into his shoulder. His heart set drumbeats down to his toes.

They giggled together a little longer, then settled into a profound stillness made electric by their embrace. She wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t wriggling to get free. He could feel her breath on his face. The shock started to take full hold of Rumplestiltskin. Even if he wanted to extricate himself, his hands were too numb to do anything. There was no way to see the skirt or her naked knees. He didn’t need to for his breathing to grow a little heavy and a tingle to tease him from his ears all the way to his groin.

“So,” he said, loudly, enough to make Belle start, “I take it you won’t be changing into that little number. Too nippy in here for that.”

Her lids fluttered closed, only to open and reward him with a shy yet playful look. “You’re probably right. We’ll need to keep warm tonight.” She swallowed, and he found himself mimicking her. “Speaking of which, I think that given the circumstances, we’ll have to . . . share the blankets and pillows.”

“Indeed.” Rumple didn’t ponder her remark. It was rather obvious.

“You’re all right with that?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”

Belle squinted. “You do know I mean we’ll be . . . you know. Sleeping together.”

His eyes grew so round they could’ve spooked an owl. “What? Why?”

Belle went from a blushing maiden to a sensible mother gently lecturing her child. “Because we have only two quilts, and neither of us wants to sleep on the bare cave floor. We can use one as a cushion. We’re also less likely to freeze to death if we’re sharing heat.”

That wasn’t so much an issue for him. The cold was unpleasant but not deadly for the Dark One. He ought to let Belle have the pillows and blankets while he stood watch. He didn’t need sleep, or warmth, or any comfort or company. He didn’t _need_ any of that.

As if she could read the thought, Belle said, “I don’t mind us sharing. I _would_ mind leaving you with nothing. It’s only one night, anyway.”

Before he could get his mouth around an objection, she claimed his scaly fingers. “See? You’re cold already. I don’t care if the Dark One can’t die of hypothermia. Let’s get settled in.”

Belle led Rumple to the rest of their belongings, her right hand never abandoning his left. The nightgown returned to the bag. Belle opened the folded quilts. One lay directly on the smoothest spot they could find that was close to the fire (but not too close that sparks would set them ablaze). She gathered the other quilt and faced Rumple with an expectant look. “Well? I assume you want to take off your vest and boots.”

“Ah. Right.” Rumple sent off the leather articles to rest with Belle’s satchel. The brown hose covering his feet matched the silky shirt. He could hardly feel more exposed if his legs were as bare as hers above the knees.

“Those look comfy,” Belle noted. She slipped her small feet out of her shoes.

Rumple wiggled his toes, then skirted his attention to Belle’s legs. He’d been dreading even thinking about them, let alone looking at them without any distractions.

“What about that cravat?”

Belle didn’t give him time to answer. His hand was at his throat, shortly joined by hers. She unknotted the red silk. It was adorned with a frill resembling the branches of a cherry tree. When it came free of his collar, he could feel the air tickling his now unprotected clavicle. This time he noticed Belle linger on that spot. Was she actually _intrigued_? Or just disturbed by the wrinkled, glittery skin?

“There,” Belle said when her eyes came up to his. “I don’t suppose you’re wearing long-johns under those trousers.”

Rumple shook his head.

“Too bad.” She stolen his half-grin. Now he knew just how unnerving it could be. It was probably more charming on her. “I hope they’re comfortable.”

“Just fine,” he muttered.

“Good.” Her finger snuck up the collar of his shirt. Without the vest’s high collar, he felt, well, small. Soft, like a snail removed from its shell. As Belle’s hand explored the edges of his clothes with an unreadable expression, he trembled in uncertainty.

“Sorry,” she murmured. She held his hand again, moved to the laid-out quilt, and urged him to at least kneel.

When her legs nabbed his attention anew, Rumple forced himself to speak. “Did you bring any trousers or long-johns for yourself in that bag?”

“No. Why?”

“Why?” He scoffed and vaguely waved at her as she knelt with him.

Belle glanced down, frowning. “You mean my legs? It’s all right. My skirt is plenty warm.”

“Yes . . . but . . .”

“But what?”

“Well, what about your socks?”

Belle checked them over. “My socks are warm, too. What’s the problem?”

“It’s not a problem.” Rumple allowed a pause so he could unscramble his thoughts at the sight of her knees, now paling at the caps. “Only, you’ve had your knees exposed to the elements all this time, yet you’re the one fussing over me about staying warm.”

Belle looked a bit miffed. Then something changed. Her face relaxed from a small epiphany. “Is that why you’ve been looking at me like that since we got to Arendelle?”

Rumple’s breathing stumbled. “Like what?”

“Like . . . like maybe I’d done something shocking, but you weren’t sure if you should be upset or—”

“I wasn’t upset. Not exactly. Surprised.” He dared to let his eyes lower. “Worried.”

“Worried that I’d catch cold?” She didn’t quite smile, but he could see she wanted to while also wanting to do something else. Something that involved moving closer to him.

“Something like that,” he said, hardly a murmur.

Belle’s smile finally bloomed. “Glad to know my employer is so concerned about my health.”

He shrugged. “Well, you know, no good having you convalescing when there’s so much dusting to do.”

“Oh, yes. On your _rather large estate_.”

Her attempt to imitate his childish tone, followed by a lip-bite, sent Rumple into a brief dizzy spell. He’d intended the double entendre back when they first met at Sir Maurice’s castle as a simple jest. Strangely, it delighted him knowing she remembered it and had the mind to parrot it back to him.

“It _is_ rather large,” he insisted.

Pink filled Belle’s cheeks. Her lip tugged itself free of her teeth. Rumple had an urge to sup from the now shining flesh. By now his mind had given up pretending that he didn’t want to know how Belle’s lips tasted, how her nightgown hugged her curves, or how cool or warm her legs were. He’d have to be senseless not to. But once they got through tonight and returned to the mundane setting of the Dark Castle, he could ignore these feelings as usual.

“Maybe . . .” Belle began in a low tone that forced Rumple to lean closer. “Maybe my legs do need warming up.”

Rumple parted his lips, more in disbelief than any intention to add a comment. A good thing—once Belle’s hands were on his, his tongue lost its capacity for movement.

She looked at his hands and cradled them as one would a baby bird. “So do these.” Belle didn’t meet his stare. She simply brought his right hand to her left leg, cool skin meeting cool skin. It stayed there.

Frost, then heat from both their bodies collided and mingled. Rumple and Belle sat like statues for the slowest minutes of their lives. Rumple wondered if he should move away, having done nothing more than touch Belle’s knee. Well, his hand was a little higher than the knee. The fingertips snuck half an inch beneath the skirt’s hem. Had he done that, or she?

He and Belle turned up in the same instant. Their tense, anticipatory expressions mirrored each other.

“Is it too much?” Belle asked. She might’ve taken his stillness as reluctance. Doubt crept into her eyes.

Rumple held off answering, as though he had to think about it.

“No,” he whispered.

“You’re sure? I know this is very forward of me. I . . . you don’t have to do anything.”

He should’ve been the one saying that with his age and relative experience. But it didn’t matter. His heart broke from the sweet, strained resonance of her voice. Kind, caring, fearful not of what he could do but of the possibility that he didn’t want what she was offering. Yet trepidation shackled Rumple until he knew through and through what that offer was.

“Neither do you,” he answered.

The smile she gave carried too much sadness. “I know that. I’ve known that for a while. It’s not out of obligation—I promise you that. Anything I do, it’s because I choose it, freely.”

“And you freely choose to have a monster touch your leg?”

She huffed through her nose. Her hand draped over his. “I choose to have _you_ , Rumplestiltskin, touch me. If you want to.”

Her skin chased away the cold in his hand. It was a melting of more than just frost. Sensual warmth filled his arm, his chest. It stifled his lungs. If he was slowly suffocating, he couldn’t make himself care. Air rushed in the second Belle guided his hand further up her leg.

His mouth twitched into a tiny smile. “You have goosebumps.”

Belle shuddered either from laughing or shivering. “I must be colder than I thought.”

“So much for the skirt and socks.”

“In that case, you better put your hands to work.”

“Oh? Both of them?”

“Will that be a problem?”

It might complicate keeping his balance while his head suffered from what felt like an infestation of bees. With his maid laying the challenge, however, it didn’t speak well of him to retreat. His other hand climbed up her leg, and together both ventured under her skirt.

“I think I can manage,” he whispered through a gasp. He realized seconds later it was echoed by Belle’s startled but by no means displeased response. Dragging his hands down, now with more confident pressure and the gentle scrape of his rougher skin, drew a sigh out of her. Already her skin was losing its chill, as were his fingers. The temperature in his chest, face and other areas was well beyond that.

He started modest—as much as one could when caressing a lady’s legs. Hands glided up. His wrists stopped when they met the handkerchief hem, like they were the jaws of a lion warning him not to go further into its maw. But if Belle was a lion, the last thing she wanted was to discourage him from entering her clutches.

Somewhere between their shared breaths, she’d narrowed the space and coiled her hands around the back of his neck. Her fingers linked around the crimped mane hiding his nape. The new pressure pulled him down to her level: eyes to eyes, mouth to mouth. His hands continued their careful circles over smooth thighs. The loops gradually widened so he could subtly cup her thighs from underneath. Lush enough that his fingers could sink into her flesh. They also slid into the now sweltering space between her thighs and her calves, pressed together in her kneeling pose.

It killed him to return so slowly to the top of her knees and slide like he was moving through molasses. How else could he hope to draw this out? Belle made no complaint. If anything, the muted moan told him he was doing well. Better than he’d hoped.

For a few minutes, Belle’s eyelids dropped shut while she bent even closer to him. Her forehead grazed his nose. Rumple tilted up his head to avoid collision, which brought his mouth to her brow. His lips rested with a feather’s weight on the rim of her hairline. A slight change in angle on her part pressed her forehead more firmly to his lips. With a short, surprised hum, he gave himself over to the innocent yet intimate sensation.

An ache seized him when she pulled back, making him half-aware of his nails lightly raking her thighs. The separation lasted all of five seconds. Her hands slipped apart to grab his shoulders just before she hauled him down to capture his mouth. Rumple moaned, startled, then relieved.

At first, simply pressing together was enough, but soon Belle parted her lips so that some of Rumple’s air escaped between them before she closed on his lower lip. She scooted forward, spreading her legs, and cupped his face. She could almost straddle Rumple’s knee.

He massaged her legs higher and higher. When his fingers met the edge of her pantaloons, they retreated, worried he’d gone too far. Belle reluctantly pulled out of the kiss and slipped her hands from his cheeks. The reward was her hoisting her skirt to her waist, bringing her frill-trimmed underwear into view. Rumple blinked rapidly. He couldn’t really be seeing the full length of her voluptuous thighs, rosy from his ministrations, or her underwear. It had to be a vivid dream.

Belle shivered from the shoulders to the legs. Doubts were thrown aside. Rumple caressed her from knee to hip, went as far as tracing and lightly tugging on the frilly hem. It was cotton, simple and comfortable, while the design taunted him with its seductive whimsy.

She gave him another kiss, deeper than the last, more delicious than a berry tart. But she shortened it so she could breathe, whimper and sigh with her head on his shoulder.

Her splayed knees and the subtle roll of her hips made him increasingly aware of the heat pouring between the two of them, despite the cotton and leather layers. Her knee was dangerously close to his crotch—not to injury so much as stimulate and bring this otherwise languid pace to an abrupt end.

They were in a sauna created from just their body heat and little help from the fire next to them. The cold and snow outside were forgotten.

As much as he loved touching her like this and feeling her pant against his throat, Rumplestiltskin yielded to the hankering in his gut that told him it wasn’t enough. Thinking about what he wanted sent heat and blood between his legs, and only self-consciousness over Belle seeing his physical desire dampened his arousal. Barely so.

He started nuzzling her neck, what little her dress let him reach. She smelled of laundry soap, wool, and sweat. The sweet musk heightened the pulsing need in his groin. His kisses were careful, searching, and she guided him with little movements to the spots that made her moan for more. His hands didn’t stop while he began sucking and licking. Her legs trembled under his roaming touch. Her hand latched to the back of his head, and her fingers laced into his hair to stroke and tug when he hit the most sensitive spots. He explored up to her ear and down to the base of her throat. The more he kissed and tasted her, even nipping the softest flesh, the more vocal Belle became. Whimpers gave way to groans, and groans gave way t murmurs. Between mutterings of, “Oh, gods,” she made gasping attempts to whisper his name.

Then she returned his kisses. She peppered as much of his neck as she could and started catching his skin between her teeth. She closed the gap between them. Her crotch was on his thigh, and her knee nestled against his stiffening member.

Rumple moaned loudly. He groped her buttocks, pushing her underwear between her cheeks. Belle echoed him and rolled her hips harder. Pleasure escalated. Instincts urged him to rock against her knee and plunge his fingers into her underwear to bring them both swift relief. That wasn’t good enough. If they were going to spend the night in a cave with nothing but blankets and pillows for basic comfort, he would make the pleasure exquisite. Belle deserved that much.

After a final drawn-out kiss on her ear, he withdrew and encouraged Belle to lift her head from his shoulder. She was still sitting on him, something he couldn’t change until he made his intentions clear. Honestly, he liked her weight on him.

“Belle,” he said, and gods even saying her name made his member twitch.

His breathless maid was a flushed, dewy-eyed beauty. He could’ve come undone just by seeing her so hot and bothered. For him, of all people!

Good soul she was, she waited with threadbare patience as he gathered the words in his parched mouth. He had to cobble together how badly he’d wanted to put more than hands on her legs since seeing her in that dress, or how he wanted to give her pleasure beyond groping. Did she understand the ways a man could pleasure a woman? Maybe she had some knowledge from books; otherwise she might be scandalized in short order. In the end, it came down to trust.

“Lie back,” he said.

A questioning look passed across her face. Without a word, though, Belle grabbed the pillows. She took her time reclining, always watching him. She might’ve had an inkling, or she might’ve been worried that he was taking things to their logical conclusion. Gods willing that would come in time, but not tonight. She should have a proper bed for that.

Her legs bent partway. Rumple positioned them a little further apart. He continually checked her face for any reluctance. She stared back in wonder, sometimes biting her lip. When her legs were spread enough that he could move between them, her eyes widened with a mix of understanding and concern.

“Don’t worry,” Rumple said. He resumed rubbing her thighs, letting his nails tease her to a shudder. “I won’t take your maidenhood.”

“Y-you won’t?”

“No. I think you’ll like this better.” He grinned playfully.

The anxiety haunting her expression faded.

His fingers snagged the top of her pantaloons. “Shall I take these off?”

Belle inhaled sharply. “Y-yes.”

Without being prompted, she lifted her hips to let him slide the garment free. As he did, his nose caught not just her musk but her arousal. His mouth watered. He had enough restraint to toss the underwear aside without imbibing its aroma first. The loveliness revealed to him spoke of things he’d already learned about Belle. There was care in the trim nest of curls, but it wasn’t shorn. Not entirely tamed, not entirely unkempt. When his eyes flicked back to her face, he found vulnerability in her wide gaze. The look didn’t overshadow her blatant desire. She wanted this, regardless her inexperience. She trusted her yearnings, and him.

Short of breath from the thought, Rumple led in slowly. His mouth started along the top edge of each stocking, ghosting her skin until it paused to lightly kiss her right kneecap. His mouth and hands worshipped her. Nails skimmed while lips kissed and tongue tasted all the tender spots. He listened to Belle gasp, then pant with excitement. He treated the careful trek along her thigh with the same intensity as when he spun. He kissed and licked with eyes closed. He opened them only when he stopped at the brink of her vulva. His timing worked out nicely—the last kiss sent a strong spark of pleasure through Belle. Her back arched and her chest heaved, leaving her rigid. Rumple smiled as she relaxed. Her mouth still hung open. Any worry in her face was replaced with awe and hunger.

“Good so far?” he asked.

Belle huffed loudly, too winded to laugh. She nodded.

“Shall I continue?”

“Yes,” she managed to whisper.

Very gingerly, his knuckles grazed over the full, flushed lips of her mons, bottom to top. “Should I taste you here?”

Her desperate sigh was glorious. “ _Please_. Yes.”

“I will,” Rumple murmured, “but I have to finish your other leg first.”

With a cruel smile, he retreated to start over on the left leg.

“ _Rumple_ ,” Belle reprimanded and whined as he kissed her knee. She tried to rear up and catch his head, but he was already set on his task. All she could do, once her fingers were on his scalp, was tug in encouragement. She tried to hurry his mouth down to where he’d rudely left her on edge. By the time he was back to her mons, she was trembling and ready to yell at him to make good on his word. After a chuckle, Rumple upped the ante with nipping. That got her legs twitching in what was probably surprise as well as excitement. He soothed her pinched skin with his languid tongue.

Finally, he reached his destination. This time Belle wasn’t going to let him slip away. But her control was limited to keeping his head down. She didn’t anticipate that he would lunge forward and kiss her hips and stomach. Her groan had a harsh, frustrated edge, but pleasure flooded in behind, especially when he teased her navel. When he pressed his tongue inside, her hips jumped and she gasped at the involuntary reaction. Unfazed, Rumple kissed down her belly along soft, delicate hairs.

Belle’s nether lips were damp, and the heady scent of her need filled his nose. Her hold on his head had loosened. Rumple bent down. He kissed up, down, everywhere. Belle’s grip tightened.

He breathed her in and kept kissing and nudging his nose where the pink pearl poked its head. Once her juices started dripping and her hips started grinding against him, his tongue returned and lapped up her arousal. The one taste, so richly tangy, made him salivate for more. He gave in and parted her folds like a knife through butter. Delicious liquid gathered on his tongue. With care he pushed it up and up until his tongue found her clit, and it swirled the fluid around. Everything slid that much easier.

The slick caress of his tongue clearly set off a shock through Belle’s body. She shuddered and let out an unbridled groan that could’ve had any nearby animals running. Her hips bucked again by accident. Rumple made sure to anchor her pelvis before unleashing divine havoc on her stiffening clitoris. It was a dance, pink flesh gliding against pink flesh, over and over. As the nub grew firmer, and Belle’s thrusts and cries more frantic, Rumple imagined the pearl was reaching for his tongue, like it couldn’t bear to be parted from its lover. Any time his tongue did leave, it was only to replenish her flesh with her own gushing arousal. Having tasted her, he wasn’t sure he could ever go without it for a prolonged period. He flicked and flicked, sucked, swirled, then lapped up more juice and began all over.

That wasn’t all he was relishing. Belle had little reservation expressing her enjoyment, even when she couldn’t speak real words. When she wasn’t simply moaning in delirious pleasure, she muttered her approval to the gods or to Rumple. Her ‘yes’s alternated between breathy prayers and drawn-out declarations as her body heaved like a wave. The declarations never failed to make Rumple’s groin tightened and his mouth spill out a moan, usually with her clit still between his lips. That worked in their favor; the vibration sent her into another ecstatic spiral, yielding gasps and cries that excited him further.

Her hips bucked faster and faster, matched by her breathing and moans. She was close to her peak. Like a creeping cat, Rumple soundlessly moved his right hand to her dripping folds, crooked a finger and slipped it inside her. His mouth continued making love to her pearl, so fervent that Belle didn’t even seem to notice the intrusion. He was mindful that his long nail might scrape her tender sex in an unpleasant way, so his finger straightened and searched for that special spongey spot with just the padded tip. He had to push his finger all the way in before he felt it, but there was no problem curling his digit again to rub the hidden area.

In just a couple strokes, Belle’s moans dropped to the lower register in startled but profound delight. Her hips had a mind of their own, gladly riding both the suction to her clit and the invading finger. She forced her head to crane up and meet Rumple’s eyes, which flitted up in anticipation of her surprise. He was prepared to pull out if she found it too much or at all uncomfortable. She might’ve considered it, but the longer she waited to say anything, the more her clenching walls adjusted to his finger and its relentless stroking. Tempted as he was to add a second finger, Rumple let it go for another time. After all his efforts to get her this heated, this breathless, this dazed with lust and pleasure, he wasn’t about to ruin it by overestimating her pain threshold.

Belle’s hands had dropped from his head to instead claw at her dress or the cave floor. Her elbows propped her up while she looked at Rumple. Now, though, she let herself flop back down with a guttural moan, and her fingers returned to snagging Rumple’s hair for dear life. Her noises and hips punched faster and faster. Her walls squeezed his finger, so strong and tight, begging for more. The last threads of control started to snap, made apparent as her legs spasmed and her stocking feet slid back and forth on the ground. Her hands rubbed his head, probably to make sure her nails didn’t scratch up his scalp.

Suddenly, her hands jumped off his head and slammed on the floor as she yowled like a jungle cat. Her entire body tightened like a bowstring. “ _Rum-ple-stilt-skin!_ ” The syllables of his name matched the rhythm of his tongue licking her pearl.

His mouth kept pleasuring her until he heard her break into a sob. Rumple slowly pulled away, her juices still clinging to his lips. Once she had stopped thrashing in ecstasy, he freed his finger, too. He made sure her eyes were on him, cleared of tears, so she could watch him suck his wet finger into his mouth. She was still panting, her stare fixed even as her eyelids drooped.

He crawled beside her and helped restore her dress to a somewhat respectable state. Her underwear went ignored. Now her body was blazing with heat. Even so, Belle had enough sense not to strip off her dress. They’d need all the heat they could get. Still, he wished he could’ve felt her naked, sweat-slicked skin. He consoled himself by petting her cheek and holding her waist. Belle, a sleepy smile spreading across her face, gladly cuddled against his chest.

The top quilt enveloped them in a whiff of magic. Belle sighed against Rumple’s collarbone. Her toes found his feet and nudged them. All these sensations did nothing to quell the pressure still present in his trousers. Belle arched like a cat, and her pelvis met his. She quietly gasped.

“What about you? Shouldn’t I—”

“It’s all right,” Rumple cut in. He needed to banish the idea before it fully formed in his mind. Otherwise he wouldn’t resist it. Belle wasn’t helping with the curious, caring and wanton look in her eyes. Rubbing his fingers in circles on her back, he added, “It’ll be better when we’re not in this freezing cave. Just rest. We need to catch that boat tomorrow.”

Belle lowered her lids, resigning to his wishes, but then they flashed their brilliant blue at him again. “Promise you’ll show me how to do it properly when we get back.” Her hand slipped around his chest. “As soon as we get back.”

His heart stammered, and his cock flinched like it wanted to batter its way out. With a strength of will he couldn’t explain (and that he’d probably regret by morning), he kissed Belle’s forehead and said, “It’s a deal. Now go to sleep.”

Rumple never quite fell asleep. He was awake enough sometime in the small hours to feel Belle’s hand cupping his manhood, now softer and still safely encased in his pants. A hungry flare ignited in him, but it cooled eventually. Her hand simply rested there, waiting.


End file.
